


Our Side

by CastorGalaxy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I love this fandom and these characters so much, Love, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22070368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastorGalaxy/pseuds/CastorGalaxy
Summary: In between the lines and beautiful acting in Episodes 5 and 6, and my own speculation on their plotting of the body swap, what might have been spoken about after the toast, and a nightcap back at the restored bookshop.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	Our Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lipsstainedbloodred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipsstainedbloodred/gifts).



> Alright, so this is a gift. A gift not just as part of a holiday swap, but from me to this beautiful fandom. This is my insight into these characters I love so much and a tribute to their versatility. 
> 
> I originally wrote this story back in September by the name of 'Wicked and Divine' and it had a smut scene that was really lovely and a great way to get back into writing. But with the prompts given by this dearest user, I re-vamped this. I decided a new approach-one I feel in my own life. One where soul mate love transcends far beyond anything on our human plane of existence. 
> 
> I hope the one this is written for can feel how much love I've put into this and thank you for inspiring me and pushing me out of my comfort zone to write my first ever not explicit story.

It was too late.

Crowley knelt, surrounded in burning books, the flames totally ignored, screaming for Aziraphale. His glasses melted on his face as the sure realization hit. It was too late. He would never have the chance to tell the angel how much- how he really felt.

Even now, as he sauntered out of the bookshop, dropping his glasses to the pavement, Freddie Mercury singing his heart out, Crowley could not admit the truth to himself. So he decided to get drunk and watch the world burn. Very very drunk.

The drive to said alcohol was a blur. He barely remembered grabbing another pair of glasses from his glove box, numbness settling in. He definitely did not remember what he was ranting about as he drank 2 bottles of straight Scotch.

Suddenly, the pale outline takes shape in front of him like liquid and the shock of recognition seems to soothe the ache the demon had been trying so hard to avoid.

“Aziraphale,” never has Crowley said the name softer, almost a whimper, and the relief overwhelming. He recovered quickly, ashamed at that ruddy tone he’d used. “Are you here?” Crowley asked, pushing up his glasses to get a better look at the angel.

“Good question. Not certain. Never done this before.” Aziraphale replied. “Can you hear me?”

Crowley let his glasses fall back. “Of course I can hear you.”

“Afraid I’ve rather made a mess of things.” The angel said, looking away. “Did you go to Alpha Centauri?”

Crowley shrugged, pain returning as he remembered that feeling of loss that had engulfed him as surely as the flames in the bookshop. “Nah, I changed my mind,” his words came out slurred, “Stuff happened.” Looking at Aziraphale right then was enough to almost bring him to tears. “I lost my best friend.”

Aziraphale looks taken aback. “I’m so sorry to hear it.” It’s his turn to recover-the world was ending after all. “Listen, back in my bookshop-“

Crowley doesn’t even hear the rest. How is he supposed to break this to him? The news is sure to break the angel’s heart. “Oh, look, your bookshop isn’t there anymore.” Crowley leans forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“Oh?” Aziraphale says, shock clear on his features.

Crowley can hear his pain, echoing his own that had started to fade. “I’m really sorry. It burned down.” Crowley said, his voice shaking a little with emotion. He had definitely had too much to drink.

Thunder rumbled in the not too far distance as Aziraphale took in the terrible news. “All of it?” he asked, hope bleeding in his tone.

Crowley really struggled with his words now. His angel looked so broken. Eventually he stammered out “Yeah. Wha-what was the book?”

“The one the young lady with the bicycle left behind. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of-“

“Agnes Nutter! Yes! I took it!” Crowley exclaimed, holding the book up for Aziraphale to see. That is if he could see it.

“You have it?” Aziraphale asks, impressed by the amount of luck that was.

“Look, souvenir!”

“Look inside. I made notes. It’s all in there. The Boy’s name, address. Everything else. I worked it all out.”

Crowley looks at everything, not really wanting or ready to look away from Aziraphale. “Look, wherever you are, I’ll come to you. Where are you?” He was desperate now. He needed to see Aziraphale alive and ok as soon as possible.

The angel looks taken aback again, Crowley’s restraint has almost eroded completely. “I-I-I’m not really anywhere yet.” He eventually says. “I’ve been discorporated.”

“Oh.” Crowley says, dumbly.

“You need to get to Tadfield Air Base.”

“Why?”

“World ending. That’s where it’s all gonna happen.” Aziraphale says, a tight smile on his face. “Quite soon now. I’ll head there too. I-I just need to find a receptive body. Harder than you’d think”

Crowley’s eyebrows raise in shock, his mouth hanging open, his mind far too inebriated to think of anything other than how receptive a body he could be for his angel. “I’m not gonna go there.” He eventually says, softly, to himself.

“I do need a body.” Aziraphale says. “Pity I can’t inhabit yours.” A smile spreads on the angel’s face.

“Ooh.” Crowley croaks out. He had to know what his words were doing to the red-haired demon. That smile pretty much gave him away.

“Angel, demon. Probably explode.” He continues on.

Crowley doesn’t even understand the sound he makes in response. ‘ _Better than moaning, I suppose,’_ he thought to himself.

“So, I’ll meet you at Tadfield. But we’re both gonna have to get a bit of a wiggle on.”

Crowley is barely paying attention, trying so desperately to _not_ think about the angel inhabiting his body in a very possible way that would definitely lead to them both exploding. “What?”

“Tadfield Air Base.”

“I heard that. It was the wiggle-on.” As soon as the words are out, Aziraphale is gone without a trace.

~

From there we all know the story of how an angel, a demon, a witch and her finder, and the Antichrist stop Armageddon in the name of love and human life.

The sunset was beautiful over the air base and Aziraphale couldn’t contain his own smile after seeing Crowley grinning in the soft orange light.

“We did it,” the demon spoke, emotion filling him, causing a tightness in his chest, especially looking at the angel, a little smirk on his face.

“I’m not sure _we_ did much of anything,” Aziraphale countered, trying to break the tension he suddenly felt, but there was something new between them. Something wicked and divine that had long slept beneath the surface had risen, curling around them.

But just as suddenly as that lovely feeling had been, something dark fell over Crowley’s face, and he looked away into the sunset. “Well, at least the Earth is gonna be around a bit longer. Wish we could stay and see it but-”

“We’re not running away, Crowley,” Aziraphale spoke, and without thinking, he clasped the demon’s hand in his own, giving a reassuring squeeze, “But we do have some plotting to do. Back to London?”

A nod was the only response given. By the time they got to the park bench, awaiting their ride to London, it was dark and Crowley had miracled up some wine, passing the bottle back and forth as they speculated.

“It’s all worked out for the best though,” Aziraphale spoke, “Just imagine how awful it might have been if we’d been at all competent.”

Crowley inhaled deeply before responding, the neck of the wine bottle held loosely between his fingers, “Point taken,” he looked down at the angel’s hands, “What’s that?”

Without any hesitation, Aziraphale handed over the bit of scorched parchment in his hands and gave it to Crowley. “It fell out of Agnes Nutter’s book.”

“’For soon enough you will be playing with fire’? So this is the final one of Agnes’ prophecies?”

“As far as I know,” the angel responds.

Crowley hums. “And Adam… human again?”

“As far as I can tell, yes” the words feel stiff, rehearsed.

“Angel,” Crowley starts, his heart jumping in his chest as the thought immediately tumbles out of his mouth, “what if the Almighty planned it like this all along? From the very beginning?”

There is a brief pause while Aziraphale speculates. “Could have. I wouldn’t put it past her.” With that he takes a long drink from the bottle.

Their comfortable silence is interrupted by the delivery man picking up the pieces left from the Armeggeaddn’t. But only for a moment.

In a handful of moments, Aziraphale and Crowley watch as the bus shows up to take them back to London.

“I suppose I should have them drop me off at the bookshop.”

Crowley turns and looks at Aziraphale, his face full of sadness, taking a moment before speaking. “It burned down.” He said gently. “Remember?”

Aziraphale looks at him for a moment and then away.

“You can stay at my place, if you like.” Crowley wishes he could comfort his friend, and for a moment the pain vanishes. Aziraphale looks at Crowley full of hope and longing. It’s gone too soon, turning sour.

“I don’t think my side would like that.” He says dejectedly.

“You don’t have a side anymore. Neither of us do.” Crowley sighs the next words. “We’re on our own side. Like Agnes said, we are going to have to choose our faces wisely.”

Aziraphale’s face softens, looking away, but thinking of Crowley in a different light at those words. He knew what he wanted to choose-what he had chosen.

Crowley sees none of this, having turned away to hale down the bus.

They both get on and-surprisingly enough-Aziraphale sits down next to him. There’s hardly any space between them now on the narrow seats and Crowley suddenly feels trapped between the window and the angel. He thought he knew that smell-of musty old books, honeysuckle, cologne, and vanilla-but here enveloped in it, Crowley is intoxicated.

Without even thinking, Crowley grabbed the angel’s hand as he sat down, interlocking their fingers. Crowley is shocked at himself, but today had wrecked him emotionally and he needed to feel Aziraphale alive under his fingertips for reassurance. Aziraphale merely rests his head on the demon’s shoulder. Crowley is at a complete loss, looking down at Aziraphale in wonder, wishing he could say anything but he’s still holding his breath.

Aziraphale can feel how tense Crowley is and decides to tilt his head up. They have almost never been so physically close to one another. Their lips only centimetres apart, feeling each other’s breath on their faces. Crowley closes his eyes as Aziraphale moves his free hand up to take off Crowley’s glasses.

“Look at me,” the angel whispers and Crowley takes a breath before opening his eyes. “We’re free.” Aziraphale whispers the words against his lips this time, finally closing the distance between them.

Crowley always imagined this moment to be very soft. And the moment before was, but as soon as they kissed, Aziraphale crashed into him like a tidal wave, like he had been holding back a damn for too long and it had finally broken.

The glasses clattered to the floor as Aziraphale moved his hand to tangle in Crowley’s hair at the nape of his neck, moving his head, parting his lips, and slipping his tongue out and into Crowley’s mouth. Somehow he was kissing back, responding to each of the angel’s advances.

Aziraphale remembered where they were, and broke away, moving his hand to cup the demon’s cheek. “I love you,” he says, still whispering, “and whatever happens you have to know I’ve loved you forever and I-“

Crowley cuts him off with another kiss, uncaring of whoever else is on the bus right now, because the angel he loves- _his_ angel-loves him too. It’s not enough, but it’s everything. This kiss is how he pictured it. So soft and sweet and chaste.

“I love you too.” He sighs, and they move together, already so comfortable. Crowley has an arm around Aziraphale, who’s now resting his head on his chest, their hands still intertwined and resting on Crowley’s lap. Aziraphale wraps his arm around Crowley’s waist. Once they settle, breathing in each other, time seems to be nothing at all and too soon they’re in London.

Hardly seemed fair that after having millennia of hiding their feelings, that once they’re allowed to express them, there’s only a few hours left.

They disentangle themselves and Crowley grabs his glasses from off the floor, putting them back on as they exit the bus (Aziraphale leaving more than enough fare for the driver.)

For very much not the first time, they’re roles reversed. It was Crowley’s mind swimming with love and worry and trying to solve everything and keep all that he held dear safe, while Aziraphale’s was full of lust and longing, looking at his dearest friend in all the world and wanting to know each and every part of him until he had memorized his very essence.

The short walk to Crowley’s flat let fate decide-much like God’s card game- which way this would go, and in this story, it is Crowley who breaks first, hands trembling so badly he can hardly snap his fingers to unlock his door.

Once inside, they both speak simultaneously.

“Look, angel, we’ve got to-“

“Crowley, I have to say-“

After a brief silence, Crowley speaks first. “Please, just, listen for a moment.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before continuing. “Right now, we need to focus on staying alive. Not just discorporated, but from being wiped from existence. And also anything and everything in between that Heaven or Hell can come up with as vengeance.” Despite having tried to calm himself, his voice shook with fear, pacing the room frantically, long fingers gripping his red hair tightly.

For a moment, it felt like time froze again as Aziraphale grasped Crowley’s arm, the contact being much more electric than it ever had been.

“Then we must plan together. I’m with you now. Our side.” Anguish and sadness fell over the angel’s face, storm coloured eyes filling with tears. “And I have to say that I am so sorry. I should have believed in you because I do believe we can survive this. I was so blind.” Without any warning, Aziraphale tenderly brought his free hand to Crowley’s face, tears finally spilling over. “I choose you.”

Somehow those three words held more power than he had anticipated.

“Ngk!” was the only sound the demon could utter, his face flushing, and he instinctively attempted to back away. Yet, the angel smiled through his tears, somehow understanding that Crowley needed to come up with a plan to save them instead of love confessions. Always the dramatic.

“I have an idea, my dear,” Aziraphale speaks as he breaks away, walking deeper into Crowley’s flat. Despite only being here a handful of times before, he finds his way to the sitting area of the place. With an eyeroll at the appalling furniture, the angel snaps his fingers to create a replica of his chair from the bookshop. Another twinge of sadness pulls at Aziraphale’s heart, but he keeps it all together.

Of course Crowley follows, slowly sauntering after Aziraphale. He grabs some whiskey on his way, and a couple of tumblers, knowing there’s no way in any place that he can continue with this _fucking_ day without a drink. With an amused smirk, he lounges across the leather sofa. In every right, it’s extremely uncomfortable, but for a being with hardly a spine, it does just nicely.

For a moment, everything seems normal. Plotting and drinking was a regular occurrence between the entities, but the kiss is still fresh in their minds. Perhaps Crowley stares for too long, no glasses to hide behind. Perhaps Aziraphale smiles too much-is _too_ animated as they discuss potential ways to protect themselves from Heaven and Hell.

“So, what’s your idea, angel?” Crowley speaks, downing his second shot of whiskey, trying to get his mind off of those soft words _‘We’re free.’_

“Well, how do you think Hell is going to punish you?” Aziraphale asked after a hum and sip of his own whiskey which he’d miraculously poured on the rocks, still sitting prim and proper in his wing backed chair.

“Pffffttt dunno. Probably try and make sure I never come back so… blessed weapon or holy water.” He takes the time to pour another finger of whiskey only to throw it back instantly. “What about you?”

“I was rather thinking the same thing. Something to take care of me for good. So Hellfire or a demon-blade. Or, well, the obvious.” He paused, making sure to lock eyes with the demon before his next word. “Falling.”

Crowley does flinch at that, drinking the whiskey straight from the bottle. “Right. So. Plans.”

“Well, obviously, Agnes was trying to tell us something. ‘Choose our faces wisely’ I believe has something to do with our corporations. So, that being said, and how we view our punishments being towards our… _supernatural_ proclivities… we must trade bodies.”

Yellow eyes narrow and it takes everything within the demon not to hiss, but he does say “That’s ridiculous. How do you suppose we’re gonna do that?”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a pointed look, his lips pursing ever so slightly. “Just earlier today I was discorporated and had to possess a human body. It rather gave me an idea. It would sort of be like possessing each other.”

The demon wrinkles his nose at this and takes another shot. “Well, I can’t say I’ve possessed anyone before so you’re gonna have to explain it to me.”

After a moment of thought, the angel begins, “I fear this may be a tad more difficult than what I did earlier, because while we are reaching out with our true selves, we must remain open to the other.”

There is a brief silence before Crowley grins, “It’ll be a neat trick if we can pull it off. And, if we’re lucky, it could work.”

“I guess we better get practicing then.” Aziraphale responds with a smile.

~*~

After thwarting Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale and Crowley meet, sitting side by side on a park bench. They clasp hands and the very essence of their beings ebb and flow to and from each other, until the demon is his usual wirey ginger self and the angel is his usual soft and sophisticated blond self.

“Tartan collar, really?” The demon asks, pretending to scowl, but fondness bleeds through his expression, eyes too wide and brow too raised.

“Tartan is stylish,” the angel counters, pretending to be only slightly offended.

Crowley sputters, letting out a deep breath as he looks away.

“So, Agnes Nutter’s last prophecy was on the money.” The angel says, hardly waiting for a reply before continuing, “I asked them for a rubber duck,” This does get Crowley’s attention, turning to face Aziraphale again, “and made the Archangel Michael miracle me a towel.”

They both laugh together, Crowley even throws his head back as he cackles, feeling tension crumble inside himself and something that could quite possibly be contentment settling in its place.

“They’ll leave us alone… for a bit.” The demon says, “If you ask me, both sides are going to use this as breathing space before the big one.”

His words shock Aziraphale. “I thought that was the big one.”

“No. For my money, the really big one is all of us against all of them.”

“What?” Aziraphale does not like where this is going. “Heaven and Hell against… humanity?”

Before the silence that begins can grow between them, Crowley changes the subject. “Right. Time to leave the garden.” He’s feeling anxious again now, realizing that they’re getting closer and closer to actually talking about this unspoken thing that’s been between them since the dawn of time. “Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?”

“Temptation accomplished,” the angel says with a wiggle and a smile and they both get up to leave. “Hmm… what about the Ritz? I believe a table for two has just miraculously come free.”

~*~

Champagne is poured as Aziraphale finally breaks maybe one of the longest silences they’ve had between them in quite some time, broken only before this moment to place their order. It’s a tension that’s been building in crescendo since Eden, about to shatter in any moment.

“I like to think none of this would have worked out if you weren’t, at heart, just a little bit… a good person.”

“And if you weren’t, deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.” The smile shared between them is entirely new, openly longing for one another, fear having dissipated like smoke. “Cheers. To the world.”

Aziraphale can feel the love that is completely intrinsically tied into those words and he does his very best to match it. “To the world.”

They raise their glasses in a toast, taking a long drink after.

The angel pauses, eyes closed in pleasure as he feels that love wash over him like a cool rain on a summer’s day, before setting down his glass. He leans over, hand so close to the demon where he places it on the table.

“You never did tell me how things went in Heaven.”

“We don’t have to talk about it, angel,” Crowley says, his expression turning sour as he recalls how tenacious the Archangels had been.

“But I want to know.” Aziraphale counters with a pout. Honestly, how can the demon ever say no to that face?

So with a sigh he decided to tell him the funny bit. “Well, I did breathe fire in Gabriel’s face.”

That drew another deep laugh from the angel, much like the one on the park bench just minutes ago, and Crowley can’t help but chuckle, despite the rage he still felt at Heaven for how they thought they had been treating Aziraphale.

It was strange how nothing seemed to change but everything had changed. Quite literally. The entire world had been rewritten and they were given a fresh start. They dined and drank until the sun was setting and finally it seemed that it was time to go.

“Well, my dear, I believe I am more than ready to go see the bookshop.” The angel says after brushing a crumb off his lap. “I left your car at your flat, and I’m sure you want to see it too.”

At the very thought of being separated, Crowley feels something akin to panic (he would never admit it was actual panic) and spoke perhaps a little too quickly. “It can wait, let me at least see you home, angel.”

Aziraphale smiles. “That would be lovely.”

They take a cab to the bookshop, and although the angel never saw his home in flames, he is very happy to see it as pristine as ever. Aziraphale is too busy smiling as he walks up to the door, and it opens as soon as he approaches.

Crowley isn’t sure if he’s invited in and honestly he can’t stop thinking about those flames. His own screams echo in his mind.

_‘Aziraphale, where are you?!’ ‘He’s gone. Somebody killed my best friend!’ ‘Bastards! All of you!’_

“Are you coming in, my dear?” that soft voice brings him out of his reverie. When he finally can see through the flames that aren’t there, he sees Aziraphale waiting at the threshold. “Unless of course you wish to make sure your car is in tip-top condition. I feel I very much wish to do the same.”

“Do you want my company, angel?” Crowley feels like he might actually discorporate if he has to walk away, but he won’t overstay his welcome. He eventually looks the angel in the eyes, that sweet grin that makes his heart melt plastered all over his face.

“I would love your company. Do come in. I’ll check the wine cellar first.”

The demon cannot suppress his smile as he walks into the bookshop, despite still seeing flames. Aziraphale is okay and he wants-no, wait _loves_ his company.

As they walk in further, Aziraphale begins to notice the slight changes. His smile is amused as he takes in all the new editions left behind by the former antichrist. Crowley immediately plops down on the couch once they’ve gotten into the depths of the shop, letting the angel putter about as he takes stock. The demon snaps his fingers and somewhere an instrumental cover _Under Pressure_ starts to play. He rolls his serpentine eyes and hisses, but decides it’s better than silence.

While Crowley does his best to wait patiently, Aziraphale is so immersed in all the slight changes. New books peppered into all the old, some he’s heard of, some he hasn’t. All the shelves look new and clean-completely dust free! Wasn’t that a miracle? He’s smiling to himself as he descends into the wine cellar and finds the room has doubled in size, the collection over-flowing with some of the most prized wines and liquors the world has to offer. After selecting a very nice looking bottle of ’54 Scotch, the angel is about to head back upstairs when he spots a note on top of a whiskey barrel.

‘ _Thank you’_ written as decent as any 11 year old could, simply scrawled on the card. Aziraphale leaves it there, a silent reminder of what the day had brought for them all.

Crowley is far closer to sleep than he anticipated, eyes closed when a hand gently holds his shoulder. He opens his eyes in shock, thankful the glasses gave him a shield from the brightness of that fond smile.

“Hello,” the angel says before offering the bottle. “Look what I found.”

He does remove his sunglasses to inspect the bottle and Aziraphale sits in his usual spot after bringing over his favourite crystal decanter and tumblers for the occasion.

“May I?” Crowley asks before breaking the seal.

“Please do,” Aziraphale responds, handing Crowley the decanter. Their hands brush and they share a breath before leaning back again.

Each action seems so deliberate in the silence. Well, not complete silence as _Now I’m Here_ plays from somewhere. Neither has yet to find where the gramophone has landed.

The whiskey is expertly poured into the crystal bottle with only a slight demonic miracle, and a generous portion poured in each glass.

“So,” Crowley says, deliberately touching the angel’s hand as he hands over the glass, “Any thoughts on what we’ll do now? Because, honestly angel, I’ve been thinking. I would get very bored if I couldn’t inconvenience people any more. I _am_ a demon.”

The angel ponders for a moment, a more playful smile on his lips as he takes a slow sip of the scotch, eyes fluttering closed as he lets the liquor wash across his pallet. He hums before responding. “Well, then it is only my duty to my own conscience to thwart you, dear.”

They begin making plans. Laughing about possibilities, the decanter’s contents somehow never emptying, and yet the supernatural entities are very much inebriated.

A nice, comfortable silence fell between them, until the music changed. The melancholy piano notes seemed to almost echo, floating towards them both as Freddie Mercury’s voice soon followed.

_All dead, all dead- and alone I’m spared. My sweeter half instead all dead and gone._

The wave of grief and sadness that crashes into Crowley is brutal enough to leave him gasping. His vision engulfed in flames in the next moment. Even the music sounds discordant and accompanied by the crackling of an inferno, licking up the walls, devouring the books. Faintly he can hears his own screams, and suddenly he’s engulfed in soft warmth. Aziraphale has wrapped his arms around the demon, and slowly, as though rising to the surface, he hears even softer words spoken into his ear, hands fumbling to caress his arms and shoulders, the being of light seeking to comfort his friend.

“I’m right here, Crowley. It’s ok.”

Other than Aziraphale’s voice, the bookshop is silent. No more music. No more fire.

He grabs the angel’s shoulders, pushing him away enough to pull him in for a kiss. But that grief hits him again and he breaks away with a sob, the words forcing their way out of his chest with a choked sob, “I thought you were gone.” His hands grasp the lapels of that perfect cream jacket, fingers digging in as though he has to keep hold to make sure Aziraphale is here and will stay here. “The fire…” His eyes close and with a whoosh the flames have reignited behind his eyelids.

“Look at me,” Aziraphale breathes and the déjà vu breaks the spell on the demon. He obeys, and citrine eyes meet sapphire ones, so full of love he feels like he could burst. “I’m not going anywhere.” And as though to make his point, his hands clasp Crowley’s forearms, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the juncture of his elbow.

They share a ragged breath together, both overwhelmed with too many emotions. The day had been the most challenging and taxing either had faced in their very long lives.

Crowley can’t help but close his eyes again as the tears he’d been holding in for so long finally came pouring out. “I didn’t want to exist without you. I was gonna let the whole world burn with me in it.”

Their eyes meet again and Aziraphale feels like he could cry too, but instead he pulls Crowley in close, hands rubbing his back soothingly. Somehow they were both laying on the couch comfortably. A miracle neither remembered doing. Crowley rests his head on Aziraphale’s chest, letting the tears flow out peacefully, arm draped over his torso. They were cuddling. That made Crowley smile through his tears. How many times had he just wished for this? To simply be held, soothing touches and soft kisses comforting all his pain and worry?

Little did he know, Aziraphale had his own epiphany at the exact same moment. How did he not know it could be like this? It didn’t have to be the, well, _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_ that humans felt so fiercely. It could be finding purpose in just being happy with each other. It could be just two beings who cared for each other far deeper than any corporeal form could articulate. Their language spoke to each other’s souls.

As much as Crowley could deny he even had a soul, there was no denying the ebb and flow of love and energy and contentment that passed between them- and had been since Eden.

“My darling, you must know,” Aziraphale struggles on his own words, “I would feel very much the same way. If anything were to happen to you.” He kisses Crowley’s flame-red hair with reverence. “And I would very much like to extend the offer you gave me last night.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Aziraphale smiled and whispered. “You can stay with me if you’d like.”

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. I did not proofread the last 1500 words! Merry Crisis! (do you all see how much I procrastinated?)


End file.
